


Forget, For A While

by seblaiens



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 10:46:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8202757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seblaiens/pseuds/seblaiens
Summary: Rafe doesn't want to replace him.





	

Rafe should think more before acting on his urges.

He wouldn't be in this mess, with Harry on top of him in his bed, their hands roaming over each others bodies, coaxing moans out each others mouths that sound too loud echoing off the empty walls in Rafe's apartment. It should have just been a job, like every time before he's had to work with Flynn – nothing more but consulting on what Rafe wanted, and how Flynn is going to get it for him.

Well. He guesses he wanted Harry, who is currently all too eager to _give it to him_.

Rafe hasn't allowed himself in the arms of another since... since _him_. Since his death. He knows all too well what could go wrong in this business Harry dips his toes in once in a while, has seen first had what one stupid decision can do to a carefully thought out plan. And he knows he's not good at handling the emotions that come with losing somebody who meant... so _much_ to him.

“Flynn,” Rafe whispers when Harry takes off both of their shirts. The other man just moans in response, probably thinking that Rafe is just moaning his name out of pleasure. He let's his tongue trail down Rafe's chest, licking over his nipples and Rafe stares up at the ceiling, caught in-between yet another decision that could be life changing.

“Harry-” he begins again, groaning when Harry bites his nipple, “wait a second-”

The light of the moon is the only thing that illuminates the sharp features of Harry's face as he looks up, his hands still on Rafe's body. He looks confused, and Rafe knows why – he's the one who started this, climbed onto Harry's lap and started kissing him after they had gone over the job and Harry's payment (generous, always generous – Rafe likes to keep him loyal). He's the one who slipped of Harry's lap again, had opened his pants and sucked his cock until Harry came in his mouth.

“Something wrong?”

“I'm not... sure about this anymore.” It's hard to get the words out, because Rafe doesn't want Harry to think it's because of him – this is entirely Rafe's problem, a problem he had refused to deal with for the past years. He knows it's time to get over it, time to stop being afraid of any man that spares him more than a platonic glance in case he catches something like _feelings_ again. “I think we should stop.”

“...oh.” Harry sounds hurt as he rolls off Rafe, getting off the bed. Rafe can hear the sound of his zipper and the belt fastening, and he buries his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes for a few seconds before grabbing for Harry, who is just picking up his shirt.

“No, wait. Stay.”

Harry halts in his actions, the shirt still gripped in his hands as he looks back on Rafe, and the hand the man has on his hip. He lets the shirt drop again and sits on the edge of the bed, his front turned towards Rafe, who rolls onto his side, looking up at Rafe.

“...Did I do something you didn't like, or-”

“No, no,” Rafe sighs, closing his eyes. “I have- issues.”

“I think we all know that, love,” Harry jokes, his smile faltering when Rafe doesn't react. “Do you... want to talk about it?”

“Oh god, no,” Rafe laughs. “Do I _look_ like I do?”

“Most of the time you look like you'd rather be anywhere else but this planet.”

Rafe opens his eyes again, looking up at Harry. His normally slicked back hair is falling in his face in the same way Rafe's is; it's hiding some of the faint wrinkles that are starting to show on his forehead. Rafe wonders how old he is - he's never asked.

God, Harry even looks like him. Rafe had almost choked on his spit one day when Harry had lit up a cigarette and Rafe had only seen him out of the corner of his eyes; tall and broad, dark hair, a cigarette in his mouth. Then he had turned and hazel eyes were replaced by blue ones, and when he talked there was no hint of a Boston accent, only the British one that drew looks whenever Harry was out in the US with Rafe.

“Come back,” Rafe eventually whispers, and scoots over into the middle of the bed so Harry has enough space. He turns onto his back, knowing that he owes Harry a minimal explanation. “Look, I've had my heart broken before. I'm not ready to let you in just yet. Anywhere.”

“We can take it slow,” Harry mumbles back, letting his lips trail over Rafe's throat, wrapping his arms around Rafe's naked torso. “I'll be a proper gentleman and not bed you until you beg me for it.”

Rafe chuckles tiredly, scooting down the bed a little and turning so Harry and he are chest to chest, Rafe's face pressed against Harry's warm skin. He breathes in, smelling the mixture of Harry's cologne and the smell of just _him_ , so familiar and yet nothing like Rafe had ever smelled before. He guesses he never tried to pay close attention to Harry's scent before, too scared of what it meant if he did. Too scared that it would be too similar to the scent he's used to waking up next to.

“It might take a while.”

“Who hurt you?” Harry asks after a few seconds of silence, pushing his luck.

“Well, it all started about twenty-five years ago...”

“ _Haha_ , you're a real joker, aren't you?”

Rafe chuckles and rubs his nose against Harry's chest, letting his lips trail over the stubble on Harry's chest. He shaves everywhere, Rafe guesses. Must be an European thing. Not that he minded – it was a lot more enjoyable blowing Harry than all the other guys where Rafe had to discreetly pull hair out of his mouth every so often.

Another difference between Harry and _him_.

“I'll tell you about him. Eventually.”

“Must have been quite the lad that you're still so hung up about him you can't even get it up for me.”

“I was... getting there, before we stopped.” Rafe is embarrassed; he had hoped Harry hadn't noticed that he hadn't gotten hard while they were making out on the couch, that he still hadn't been hard once they were on the bed. He tries to turn around in Harry's arms, turn his back towards him, but Harry holds him tightly against his own body so he can't move away.

“You don't need  to be hard for me to fuck you silly...”

Rafe almost laughs out loud.

“Yeah, I'd like to enjoy sex as well. Though I think I'd be the first person in the world to _enjoy_ it with you.”

“Now I feel insulted.”

“Good.”


End file.
